For Love of Evil - [Roman Godfrey/Hemlock Grove]

-9-

*
Lyra lies in the mud, with dried dirt imbedded in her clothes. She stares up into the nights' sky, paralyzed from the sternum down.

It's hard to breathe, her chest too heavy to rise with oxygen as she slowly suffocates. A half moon is caught in her line of sight through the tops of the trees above her. The wind howls coldly as small bumps raise the fine hairs on her body.

Lyra hears rustling, and turns her head to see what is making the sound.

Peter stands ten feet away, his arms folded over his chest as he stares down at Lyra disapprovingly.

He gets down on one knee, slowly, as if any sudden movement will spook her away, despite the fact she is unable to move.

Lyra turns her head quickly, screaming with all of her might. "Roman!... Roman, help!" She immediately regrets using what little air in her lungs to call for Roman. She knows it the moment his name leaves her lips that Roman is incapable of reaching her.

"What are you?" Peter asks, causing Lyra's head to turn in his direction.

Lyra's eyes grow wide when seeing that Peter is no longer there; only the presence of a black wolf. The animal's eyes glow yellow, it's snout snarling back, exposing it's sharp teeth with a growl.

Lyra closes her eyes tightly, telling herself to wake up. She turns her head to the side, calling for Roman once more in a winded gasp. She sees him through the trees, rushing to get to her.

She turns her head back to Peter to see him standing next to the vicious animal. She looks over to Roman again to see if he's any closer than before, only to find him hovering above her with blood smeared across his angelic face.

"Wake up." Roman demands.
*

Lyra's eyes open as she gasps, the dream had taken her aback. Confusion set in as she recalled the way Peter had asked what she was, as if she had a clue.

The dream didn't make any sense, but then again, neither had the others - the ones of only Roman. Being unable to move - being paralyzed, was more haunting than having her throat ripped out by Roman's jaws.

Lyra stood from the bed, peeking through the blinds of the window to see it was night. She had fallen asleep soon after Roman had left.

She trailed out of the bedroom, still reeling from the terror she had felt from her dream. Lyra was startled to see the lamp from her father's study lighting the hall.

Lyra stopped.

She thought of somehow creeping past the door, hoping her existence would go unnoticed by her father. She knew he was in there, just waiting for her to come out. She could sense it through the small distance that separated them - Ares wanted to talk.

Lyra closed her eyes, stopping at the opened door, just waiting for her father's voice. There was a conflicting emotion Lyra felt when looking at her father. She could feel his emotions, anger wasn't one of them.

Lyra nearly sighed in relief, hearing her father's lightly accented voice break through her thoughts. She could no longer feel her father's emotions, he was shutting her out.

"Come in, Lyra." Ares spoke softly, never once turning in his chair to face his daughter.

Lyra reluctantly obliged as she stepped into the room, gazing around the rather messy study at the mounts of paper. "I just want to warn you, your mother's very upset."

"Why?" Lyra asked, staring at the back of her father's head; the black colored strands of his hair sleeked back. Her father had to be roughly fifty years old, but he didn't look it. His head turned, Lyra catching the side of Ares' gaze, his iris transparently blue, just like hers.

"She received a phone call from the school. Something about you skipping class. You and a fellow student."

"Roman..." Lyra admitted.

She tried keeping the memory of what they had done hidden away in the back of her mind, but was unable to.

She remembered what she had said to Roman, those three words, as they consummated whatever sick bond they shared.

"The Godfrey boy?" Ares' twisted in his chair, a small smirk reaching his eyes as he stared up at his daughter. "You snuck away with Roman Godfrey?"

Lyra nodded. There was something in her father's eyes - something odd and yet, fascinating. It was as though he was... proud of her?...

Proud of himself?

"Great things lie ahead of you, Lyra. Big and wonderful things... things that will change the world." Ares spoke cryptically.

When his eyes met hers, Lyra's mind flashed with images. A blonde. She couldn't be any older than twenty-five, her head held in place on a steel table with a black strap. Metal prongs were inserted to the temples of her head as the veins in her neck bulged as she wailed in a blood curdling scream. Her eyes were closed tightly, but Lyra knew that behind those lids were irises of emerald green.

Lyra's eyes quickly shifted from her father's, trying to shake the mental picture of Ares' demented experiments.

"Lyra..." Ares' spoke softly. "Is there something you want to ask me?"

Without the ability of self control, Lyra asked. "What am I?" She spoke unwillingly. Her father had known the question she wanted to ask.

"My very special girl." He smiled wide, flashing his brilliant smile.

"And Roman... what is he?"

"A very special boy." Ares turned back to the papers on his desk, dropping his heavy gaze from Lyra's. "You should talk to your mother. Ease her mind a bit."

Lyra's feet began to move out of the room, mindlessly following her father's orders. She had to, Lyra didn't have a choice.

She made her way down the staircase until reaching the landing. Mary sorted through boxes frantically, organizing the small trinkets in a row, trying to decide where to put all of them. Mary's eyes met Lyra's; anger and annoyance set in her expression with a scoff.

Mary shifted her eyes away quickly, "Got a call from the school today." Mary threw a plastic snow globe back into the cardboard box. "You got anything to say for yourself? Now's the time to state your defense if you've got one."

"I don't." Lyra leaned against the banister, treading lightly in fear of angering her mother any further.

It had been awhile since Lyra had used her special talent, especially on her mother. But something deep within Lyra told her it was now time to do it.

"I left in the middle of class and came home. Roman, the boy who dropped me off yesterday... he skipped too." Lyra admitted, walking away from the landing and toward her mother.

"You skipped school with a boy? Why, what were the two of you doing-"

"Mom..." Lyra approached her mother, looking into her eyes. Mary stopped, her gaze in a perplexed state, unable to move. "Everything is fine."

Lyra imagined herself and Roman sitting in the living room, the television on in the background as they giggled; Lyra looking down at an outdated calculus book.

Lyra was implanting false memories in her mother's mind, forcing her to believe that was all she and Roman had done once they had left the school.

Mary nodded, pursing her lips as Lyra looked away. Mary went back to sorting the boxes, the strong disappointment she had felt dispersed in an instant. "Have you ate today? There's a roast in the oven. I forgot to wake you."

"I'm not hungry." Lyra said, making her way back up the stairs.

She had avoided controlling people's minds for many years, since discovering her father could do the same thing. It seemed to Lyra that Ares had become drunk with power because of his ability to force people to do and feel things.

Each time Lyra did it, she could feel herself succumb to something much darker and sinister. Lyra typically used her gifts to bring people joy and happiness. But upon meeting the boy from her dreams, it was nearly impossible for Lyra to see herself other than anything more than what Roman saw in himself... a monster.